"I have just heard something which I didn't know before. About your father going to Australia for two years. Is it true?"
"Dr. Ingram advises at least a year and a half. He would prefer two years. Yes, it was settled days ago."
"And I never heard! But he ought not to go alone."
"He must."
"Is he well enough?"
"No—not if it could be helped. We have no choice."
"Only, if the thing could be managed—surely, he ought to have a companion. Think, if he were taken worse out there—alone among strangers—"
"I know! Do you think I don't know?" asked Jean, lifting sad eyes to his. "Cyril, I didn't expect you to be cruel. Why should you say it to me? I know all so well, and yet I cannot go. There are all the expenses of his illness—and the locum tenens—and his voyage! And I shall cost him almost nothing in England, living with cousin Chrissie and Jem. Don't you see?—The thing has to be."
"I'm not speaking unkindly, but because I have a reason." Cyril moved to a chair nearer Jean, and looked earnestly into her face. "Jean—I have a plan, and I think it may be a comfort to you. Will you let me go out with Mr. Trevelyan? Will you trust him with me—as my charge?"
"You?"